And now they’re all around me, big mouths taunting me, big hands dragging me into the alley, back behind the dumpster. I try to kick free, try to scream, but they’re too strong, too cruel, too everything…
They’re going to rape me. They’re going to rape and mutilate me and leave my broken body bleeding out in the alley and my father won’t even know I’m dead…
Fear sours my gut, and with one last surge of pure adrenaline, I slam my head backward and stomp down hard, simultaneously smashing Jake’s nose and crushing his instep. With a howl of pain, he shoves me away and stumbles back, but I still can’t escape. The other guys are on me again in a blink, smothering my screams, stealing my breath, dragging me down, down, down…
“Stop wiggling, whore.” Metal straddles me on the ground and pins my wrists over my head, the concrete scraping my skin raw. Alonzo holds my feet, and then out of nowhere, Jake’s back. He kneels beside me, broken nose leaking blood into his mouth, a flash of something silver in his hand—a pen? A knife?—and then he grabs my throat and jabs me hard in the neck and everything just… goes… dark.
Chapter Two
WESTLYN
10 Years Ago…
Oil. Some kind of motor oil. Rotten garbage. Piss. A dead rodent and the unmistakable scent of lit candles…
The discordant mix assaults my nose, making me gag. I gasp for breath, and my eyelids fly open, awareness rushing through me in a hot wave.
I’m lying face-down on the subway tracks, spread eagle, bound to the rails by my wrists and ankles. Black candles surround me, their flickering yellow-orange glow the only light source in the tunnel.
I’m naked from the waist up.
My jeans, thankfully, are still intact, and I don’t feel any pain down there.
But my relief at the small miracle is short-lived, fear flooding my limbs with a vengeance.
“Good morning, wicked little beast,” the dark voice taunts. “Enjoy the nap?”
Jake.
He and his boys emerge from the tunnel with several others I recognize from school, the candlelight exaggerating their features, making them look even more vicious and terrifying than they did aboveground.
“Help!” I scream, not wasting my chance this time. I remember learning that you’re supposed to yell ‘fire’ when you need help because people are more likely to respond. So that’s what I do. “Fire! Fire! Somebody help!”
My pleas echo down the endless tunnel behind them. I whip my head around, frantically trying to get my bearings, desperate to find a friendly face.
There aren’t any, though. Only monsters.
“Scream all you want, Wicked,” Metal says. “No one will hear you. No one will come.”
“That’s… that’s not true,” I stammer. “The police are always...”
The words die on my tongue as the realization hits.
This is an abandoned station.
The subway platform is empty. Nothing but chipped tiles and rusted metal beams as far as the eye can see. Old newspapers and trash strewn across the concrete. A cracked sign indicating the train lines—four, five, six.
But just because it’s not an active subway stop doesn’t mean the trains skip over it.
Fresh panic seizes my chest.
“Untie me!” I shout, my throat cracking with the effort. “The trains still pass through here!”
“The four train, yep,” Metal says. “Doesn’t stop, though. Doesn’t even slow down.” He glances at his phone. “But we’ve got an hour before the next one’s due, which gives usplentyof time.”
“T-time for what?” I ask. Tears run down my cheeks, mixing with snot.
“Since a demon fucked your mother and stole your magic,” Jake says, “we’re gonna do you a favor and conjure your demon daddy. See if he might give you back your mojo.”
